


Alpha's Request

by edibleflowers



Series: Werewolves of Lucis [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Werewolves, a/b/o dynamics, pre-ffxv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 08:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: Ignis worries about future pack dynamics. Noct is way ahead of him.





	Alpha's Request

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arumattie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arumattie/gifts).



> This took a lot longer to finish than I thought it would, but I finally powered through it. Apologies for the wait. A prequel to Waking the Moon, set about six months prior to the beginning of that.

"Have you given any thought yet to where you'd like to attend university?" Ignis asks, mostly to fill the silence as he washes dishes.

Blinking, Noctis looks up at him. He's been reading a report from the morning's council meeting, and it takes a moment for his eyes to refocus. "Huh?"

Ignis shakes his head, smiling wryly. He turns off the faucet and reaches for a towel to begin drying the dishes. "Never mind. I shouldn't have interrupted. You're clearly riveted by that report."

"Actually, I'm falling asleep." Noctis stretches back in his chair; his back cracks once or twice, and he makes a sound of relief. "Is there anything for dessert?"

"Not if you ate the rest of the ice cream I bought last week," Ignis says, and smiles to himself: they sound not a little like an old married couple. It's not the first time he's made the observation. Ignis doesn't mind, even though he knows that as Noctis's future advisor, he should be more detached, more formal.

They are, however, werewolves, which means their roles are rather more flexible than they might otherwise be.

In point of fact, Ignis has wondered (more than once) if he will be part of the pack Noctis will eventually lead. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't hoped for it, a little. And worried, too, that he might not. Sexual politics aside, not being in the future king's pack could leave him out of important networks, could keep him from providing critical support or services at necessary times--

Noctis's hand on his back jolts him from his musings, and Ignis looks down to see all the pans and plates neatly dried and stacked, all done automatically while his mind wandered. 

"Man," Noctis says. "You were way out there. I could smell the smoke."

"My apologies," Ignis says. He sucks in a breath and pauses. Noctis stands close to him, his scent warm, intrigued, curious. 

"What were you thinking about?" Noctis asks.

Ignis could lie. The dishonesty would be clear in his scent, but he could do it. Noctis would accept whatever glib explanation he chose to give: it's one of those careful social interaction politenesses with wolves, that one might know another is lying but be civil enough to accept the lie on its face. Still, the fact that a falsehood had been uttered would be evident.

"I was thinking about your future pack," Ignis says. The relief of being honest is matched by the surprise in Noctis's eyes.

"My pack?" Noctis raises an eyebrow, his scent thrown into confusion.

Ignis is unable to suppress the slightest smile. "I am well aware you don't have one yet, and that you haven't given the matter much thought. It's only that I do worry from time to time--"

Noctis makes a disgusted face and turns away, opening the freezer to see if there's ice cream (there isn't). "I _have_ given it thought," Noctis grumbles. "A lot of thought."

"Oh?" Ignis asks blithely; then: _oh, of course. Prompto_. He's met the young man once or twice, is rather more familiar with his history through the background research he's done. He still hasn't tracked down where Prompto came from as an infant, but that's only a matter of time. Prompto's been fairly clearly identified as a latent omega, however, and he's Noctis's best friend: his inclusion in Noctis's pack is all but a foregone conclusion, at least as far as Noctis is concerned.

"Yeah," Noctis says, and shuts the freezer door, slouching heavily against the refrigerator. "You're gonna be in it, of course. Gladio too, probably, if he says yes."

"Ah--wha?" Ignis is rarely so taken off guard. He was putting a couple of pans away, and he straightens slowly, kneeing the cabinet door closed and blinking at Noctis.

"Wait," Noctis says, his eyes genuinely worried. "Did you think I wouldn't--"

"Well, I didn't _know_ , did I," Ignis says, a bit heated. "You've talked very little about it, I was beginning to worry you wouldn't be interested at all--"

"I want you!" Noctis shouts.

Ignis stares at him. Noctis stands straight now, his hands loose at his sides, his face suddenly going red. "I want you," he repeats, his voice quieter now, and he stares at the floor as if he can't bear to meet Ignis's eyes. "Of course I want you. I've wanted you since I knew what it meant to want someone. I want you in my pack, I want you by my side."

"Noctis," Ignis whispers.

"I mean, unless you don't want--" Noctis starts, and it's the last straw. Ignis takes two steps into Noctis's space, bringing his hands up to cradle his prince's face to urge Noctis to look up at him. Noctis starts to jerk back, but Ignis's hands keep him in place; after a moment, Noctis's nostrils flare, and Ignis watches him sampling his scent. 

"Noct," Ignis says again, and Noctis surges up to kiss him.

It's awkward for a moment, teeth clacking, Ignis's lower lip caught painfully against Noctis's. Then Noctis draws back and kisses Ignis again. This time, Ignis is prepared for it. He closes his eyes, lets his hands drop to Noctis's shoulders.

Noctis is two years his junior and a good four inches shorter than him. Noctis is his future king and, now, his alpha. Ignis sags in welcome submission, and Noctis's scent turns hungry even as his kiss goes dirty, his tongue pushing into Ignis's mouth, teeth sinking into Ignis's lip for a moment.

When he pulls back, his eyes -- now gone dark, blown nearly black -- search Ignis's.

"Anything you want," Ignis says.

Noctis growls. It's a low, rippling sound that goes straight through Ignis. "You," Noctis says, his hands fisting in Ignis's shirt. "I want _you_." 

Ignis closes his eyes and tips his head to the side, exposing his throat. He hears Noctis's inhalation and knows he's done the right thing.

"My alpha," he whispers.

* * *

Noctis all but drags him by his hair to the bedroom. He seems rushed, even though Ignis is right behind him; before they've made it into the room, Noctis's frantic fingers are already reaching for the buttons on Ignis's shirt, then (with a frustrated growl) going instead for the small of his back where his apron is still tied.

His scent is impatient, but Ignis detects another note that takes a moment to identify: when it hits him, he almost smiles (but stops himself before he does). Noctis is nervous. Ignis isn't surprised. This will be, as far as he knows, Noctis's first time.

That thought, as it coalesces in Ignis's brain, staggers him for a moment. He's no prude, but neither has he slept around much. ( _Gladio_ , he thinks for a moment and then traitorously pushes the memory away: no need for Noctis to know about that, especially if Gladio decides to form his own pack instead of joining Noctis's.) Still, to be his future king's first -- well: Ignis shakes off the line of speculation before it distracts him. He's in Noctis's pack. Noctis is his alpha; he's Noctis's beta. That's all that matters.

"Ignis?" Noctis asks, and Ignis realizes that his mind was wandering again. He shakes his head and smiles at Noctis.

"Allow me," he says. "Go on, get comfortable. I'll take care of this."

Noctis seems a little unsure, but he goes, tugging down the bed's covers and then beginning to unbutton his own shirt. Ignis finishes undoing his apron and lays it on the chair by the door, then starts undressing. He's keenly aware of Noctis's eyes on him, of the approval and rising need Noctis feels, and he takes a little time about it, stepping neatly out of his shoes, unknotting his tie, making a neat pile of his clothing. (He'll have to wear it all back home later, after all. And this way, they both have a moment to breathe and collect themselves. They may be wolves, but they're not _animals_.)

When Ignis turns back to Noctis, he's completely naked. He had thought, once or twice, about how this moment might occur -- but always as a hypothetical; he'd never had the audacity to assume it would. He'd hoped for composure, calm. Instead, he feels himself shaking a little, and the scent of Noctis's clear interest already has him more than half-hard. Indeed, Noctis sits up from his half-sprawl on the bed, his eyes darkening with lust: Ignis sucks in a sharp breath as a pulse of arousal hits him hard. 

Noctis doesn't have to say anything at all: with all the rich scents in the air coming from both of them, no verbal communication is really necessary at all. But they're still human, too. Noctis holds out his hand and murmurs, "Ignis," in a low rough tone, and Ignis goes to his prince as if mesmerized.

He sinks to his knees before Noctis, hands on Noctis's knees and head tipped down. There may not be any kind of formal ceremony or ritual involved in a pack's formation, but Ignis still feels compelled to mark this moment _somehow_. Noctis's hand smooths over his hair, then cups his chin, lifting it; his mouth finds Ignis's, and Ignis feels tension and worry slip away at that gentle contact.

It isn't gentle for long. Noctis tugs Ignis up; Ignis goes, breaking the kiss only as long as it takes for both of them to fall to the bed. Noct made it as far as getting his shirt off, and now Ignis takes a moment to appreciate the strong, lean shape of him, the solid muscles beneath pale skin, a faint dusting of hair over his nipples and down the center of his belly.

"What do you want?" he asks. "How do you want me?"

Noctis's throat works; his cheeks flush a little, but his eyes meeting Ignis's are hungry, almost all black save for a fine rim of dark blue. "I want you to fuck me," he says.

Ignis blinks. To say Noctis continues to surprise him is a massive understatement. The blunt words, baldly phrased, have the side effect of hitting Ignis with another of those waves of arousal, so sharp his head spins for a moment.

"As my alpha requires," he murmurs. "I only--" He hesitates, debates his phrasing, forges on: "You know I could knot, yes?"

Noctis nods. His eyes dart down between them. Ignis's bare cock is hard where it rests against his thigh; a similar bulge is prominent in Noctis's pants. Though Ignis is a beta, he knows he's still more well-endowed in the genitalia department than most baseline humans; the last thing he wants to do is injure Noctis.

"I want you to," he says. "I want to feel that. It's only fair. If I want to do it to you, I want -- I want to feel what it feels like. And you're not as. Um. You're not as big as m--as an alpha, and..." Noctis's fingers finally grow as bold as his eyes; they trail down Ignis's chest, touching the tip of his hard cock, then sliding over his shaft. Said erection twitches, mindless, dumb with want.

Ignis sees Noctis's point, though. A beta, such as himself, won't be as aggressive or dominating -- or physically large -- as another alpha. (As Gladio is. _Stop that now_ , he tells himself.) "Of course," he says. "Do you have--?"

By way of answer, Noctis stretches until he reaches the bedside table, groping into the drawer and coming out with a slightly-crumpled tube of lubrication that he presses into Ignis's hand. "I don't have condoms, but we shouldn't need..." he starts, and then trails off, his scent suddenly awash with confusion. He's second-guessing himself. Ignis sets the tube within easy reach and moves in to kiss Noctis again, soothing and slow.

"It's fine like this," he says. "Though for the future, I'll make sure you have a supply. Just in case." It's not out of line, after all, to think that Noctis might want to be with a non-wolf, a baseline human, who isn't vetted the way wolves in King Regis's jurisdiction are.

"Jeez, Iggy," Noctis says, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, and hooks his hand around Ignis's nape to tug him down for a kiss. "You're like the worst mom friend ever."

"I'm only looking out for your well-being," Ignis says, or tries to. The words come out muffled against Noctis's mouth, and rather than let him up to speak, Noctis keeps kissing him, firm, unrelenting. Ignis finally gives in to the pressure of Noctis's lips on his own, closing his eyes and sinking against Noctis.

This is better. Once he stops overthinking everything or trying to slot it into his existing worldview -- once he stops actively pondering their changing roles (is he advisor or beta or friend now? is Noctis his prince, charge, alpha, lover?) -- he can simply focus on the moment at hand and forget about the rest. Noctis's hands roam into Ignis's hair, down his back; the combination of heated bare skin against Ignis's own and the rising scent of hunger is dizzying. 

Ignis finally pulls back, but only long enough to start undoing Noctis's trousers with fumbling fingers. "Won't get anywhere while you're still half dressed," he points out, and Noctis goes pink and laughs at the same time.

It takes a little longer than it should, since Ignis can't seem to stop kissing Noctis every few seconds, but finally, their combined efforts have the rest of Noctis's clothes off. Noctis barely finishes shoving his pants down, in fact, before climbing over Ignis and pushing him down to the mattress; his kiss is forceful this time, need, and Ignis gives in helplessly, groaning both at the intensity of Noctis's hunger and at the way their erections nudge and bump against each other. Every slight touch sends a rush of shivering pleasure through Ignis. He wants nothing more than to spread his legs for Noctis, for Noctis to take him, without quarter or mercy.

"Noct," he breathes, and Noctis seems to shudder a little before moving, dropping back to the bed with an unexpected laugh.

"Sorry," he says. "I wanted you to do me, right?" His voice is rougher, his lips wet from kissing. Ignis goes without consciously thinking about it, the lube in one hand as he kneels between Noctis's legs.

"Then let's get started before we both lose our minds," Ignis suggests.

* * *

Noctis has done this for himself, experimenting, learning. When he says as much, Ignis shivers. "Can I see?" he asks, and Noctis swallows and nods (Ignis can practically _see_ the heat pulsing through Noctis). Ignis sits back between Noctis's spread knees, watching Noctis's fingers uncapping the lube, spreading it over his fingertips, then sinking down past his balls, to that dark shadowed place: Noctis trembles a little, rubbing one finger there before pushing it in, slow and easy.

"Take it slow," Ignis urges, even though his own voice trembles a little with barely-suppressed need.

Noctis's clean white teeth are sunk into the delicate skin of his lower lip, the skin pale and then red around it. His eyes, normally a deep velvet blue, have gone black as midnight; he somehow smiles, or maybe it's a smirk, and buries his finger in himself.

Ignis mutters a curse, only half under his breath. His eyes are drawn to that place, to that slick opening, glistening a little with lube now, as Noctis's finger works back and then into his body once more. "Help me out, Iggy," he says, and Ignis is helpless to do anything but comply. He takes the lube from where Noctis dropped it, smears more of the stuff on his own fingers, moves forward with a hand braced by Noctis's hip. The slicked-up one bumps against Noctis's hand and then he finds that heat. He rubs at Noctis's rim, watches his alpha shudder in pleasure. When Noctis's finger slides back, Ignis's joins it.

It's a slow push this time, but so worth it to feel Noctis's body accepting him. Noctis hisses out a breath, keening a little; Ignis leans up and kisses him and lets their fingers move together in little pulses, steady pushes. Feeling his finger gripped by dense muscle is delicious; knowing he's going to be in Noctis soon makes him pant.

"Another," Noctis says at some point, wet mouth against Ignis's, and Ignis complies. He's lost track of time, doesn't know how long they've been doing this. All he knows is that he can feel Noctis relaxing, opening to him, the tight vise of muscle easing, and sweat blooms on his back and on his forehead. He can't even put words to how much he wants to be fucking Noctis, his alpha, his prince.

Three fingers, two of Ignis's and the one of Noctis's, and their hands overlap each other, vying for space in the narrow margin between Noctis's thighs. Noctis's chest rises and falls now as he pants, and while Ignis has asked him -- more than once -- to say something if he hurts, Noctis has yet to speak (other than to encourage Ignis, in a low hoarse voice, to give him more). There's something to be said for werewolf resilience, Ignis thinks as their fingers work in, pulse after pulse, gentle twist by gentle twist.

"Gods," he hears himself say when their grouped digits finally sink as deep as they can go. Noctis's face is flushed and his eyes are shut, but they open at Ignis's words. 

"I'm ready," Noctis says.

"Noct, you can't be," Ignis tries to protest, even as Noctis pulls his finger back (and Ignis's go with it). His cock, neglected and stiff, has been slippery with pre-come for minutes now, and he's not sure he'll last more than ten seconds when he finally does get inside Noctis.

"Don't make me use the voice," Noctis tells him.

Ignis is torn between a protest and a laugh, even as he lets Noctis guide him up and over him. Alphas can command their pack members with a specific sort of intonation. Ignis has never actually heard an alpha use the commanding voice, as Regis leads his pack with the sort of firmness that doesn't require such force; he doesn't tolerate its casual use in the packs he oversees, either, though there is an understanding that sometimes it is necessary.

"Ignis," Noctis says, and Ignis coughs on a laugh this time. How is he drifting _now_ , of all times, with one of Noctis's hands on his cock and the other on his ass?

"My deepest, most sincere apologies," he says instead, and even though his tone is less than precise at the moment, Noctis grins anyway.

"That's more like it." 

As he settles into place, Noctis's legs shift up and hook around his thighs. Ignis swallows hard. Noctis's guiding him now, finding the line, getting the slick head of Ignis's cock at his loosened rim. Ignis still wishes he'd taken a little more time, but they're both hungry for it too -- so much so that he gives in at last to the scent of need rising sharp in the air, lets his hips go, pushes in one long convulsive thrust. 

Ignis honestly doesn't know how long he lasts. It could be thirty seconds or an hour. All he knows is that he briefly loses time, buried in clutching heat that undoes all the higher functions of his brain. Noctis's hips work under him, as if trying to get more, as if that could be possible when Ignis is already sheathed to the hilt in Noctis.

"Fuck," he hears Noctis groan, and that helps him pull back and center, somehow. Below him, Noctis is panting, shuddering, and Ignis gets his knees under him and pulls Noctis's legs up around his waist.

"As my alpha commands," he mutters in a voice gone raspy and harsh, and gives in. 

The tiniest sliver of conscious thought keeps him from simply fucking Noctis into oblivion, even though he's pretty sure both of them would enjoy nothing more than that. Clinging to that bit of rationality, though, Ignis slows his thrusts after a few hard pushes, rocking and grinding into Noctis. His prince, his alpha, his lover, rolls his head restlessly on the pillow and begs, in a thready voice, for more. Noctis's hair, limp with sweat, clings to his forehead, to his cheeks, and Ignis reaches up to brush it back so that he can see Noctis's face in the throes of pleasure.

He is, quite simply, beautiful. With his eyes closed, he's an erotic angel, mouth open and cheeks flushed, little gasps emerging with every thrust of Ignis's hips. When he opens his eyes, Ignis sees nothing but black with the faintest halo of blue, the depths of them fired with need. Noctis's teeth bite into his lower lip, bleeding it of color; when he lets go, red rushes back, vivid and stark. Every snap of Ignis's hips makes Noctis cry out, raw and ragged.

"Please," Noctis says, and something breaks inside Ignis. He wants to draw this out, but he can't, not any longer, not when Noctis pleads in that helpless tone. Ignis closes his eyes, puts his head down, and speeds up.

He feels Noctis's hand slipping between their slick, sweating bellies, catching his cock in a fist. At once, the scent in the air sharpens and Ignis knows without having to look that Noctis is close, drawing closer with every thrust that buries Ignis in him. It's not enough; Ignis wants to _make_ Noctis come now. His mouth finds the thick muscle of Noctis's deltoid and he sinks his teeth in. Not enough to break the skin -- a beta could never do that to their alpha -- but the sharp sensation jolts Noctis, and in the next moment, Noctis comes, hard, gushing wet between them, a salty, musky smell that inflames Ignis's senses.

Ignis doesn't know how long he's been holding back, fighting off his own orgasm. All he knows is that now he can let go, and he does, his hips stuttering and hands fisting in the sheet beneath them. One, another, there, by the Six finally _finally--_

Ignis goes briefly, blissfully blank as orgasm swirls up and takes him.

When he blinks his eyes open again, he's laying on his back in Noctis's bed. The prince has stirred himself enough to get a couple of damp cloths from the bathroom, and he's tenderly wiping up Ignis's belly now. That must be what woke him, Ignis thinks, the warm damp on his skin.

"I can do that," he protests, or tries to. His voice is raw; he's going to be useless tomorrow.

"Let me take care of my beta," Noctis says, and Ignis feels his breath hitch, like he's gone temporarily airless, weightless. Noctis's smile is soft, appreciative. Affectionate.

"As my alpha demands," Ignis whispers, and closes his eyes.


End file.
